


It's All In My Head

by ineffablesheep



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Attempts at writing gore, Blood and Injury, Complicated Relationships, Flashbacks, Hostage Situations, M/M, Mental Instability, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, The Pool Scene, aftermath of death, those two tags will make sense I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3342113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablesheep/pseuds/ineffablesheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty runs the greatest criminal empire anyone could ever hope to. Sebastian Moran is possibly the best sniper in the world and Jim's second in command. Together they make a formidable pair.</p><p>Just one tiny thing gets in the way of all this.</p><p>NOT ABANDONED</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've tagged this as mature due to the nature of Jim's mental health - being thorough just in case
> 
> There was a gifset on tumblr that suggested that Jim was so unhinged at the pool because Sebastian was already dead at that point and he hadn't handled it well. This is my take on the pool scene with this in mind
> 
> EDIT28/07/2016: much of the dialog in chapter 4 is directly from the show via transcripts I will link to asap

**_Text received: 6:13 pm_ **   
**_Sender: unknown number_ **   
**_Message: the pool. Midnight._ **

 

Jim looked up from his phone with a grin of triumph.

“Bastian! He _finally_ figured it out. Come on, pack your things. The meeting’s set for midnight.” The Irish criminal practically danced around the little flat as he shut down his lap top and began shedding the clothes of his “Jim form IT” persona. Sebastian made a note of how skinny his boss and partner was, far too skinny to be healthy in his opinion.

“Fine Bastian, I’ll eat something but finally! He might just be as clever as I am.” He grabbed an apple on his way through the kitchen and took a bite. A little too flowery, he thought, and dropped it in the bin. He reached their bedroom and started pulling apart the wardrobe.

“A mouthful of apple doesn’t count as a meal, Jim!” Sebastian calls after him, but Jim was in his own world. Next on the list, what to wear? Sherlock Holmes needed an extra special touch. Jim rifled through the wardrobe, pulling out shirts and holding them up to a critical eye. From the door way of their tiny bedroom, Sebastian laughed at Jim’s pedantic muttering.

“I didn’t know how vain you were on the first date, Jim.” Jim scowled but ignored the sniper’s teasing. Holding a white shirt and blue tie with skulls on it together, he made his decision.

“What do you think of this one, Bastian?” He turned and asked an empty room.

“Just like him to wander off.” He muttered without any menace

Sebastian?” he called out, “Sebbeey?” Jim dropped the shirt and tie on the floor and dashed to the lounge. Next he tried to the kitchen, the laundry, the bathroom, feeling sicker each time he met an empty room.

“Sebastian! Where are you! Rechecking every room in the tiny flat, Jim started to hyperventilate. His stomach lurched.

“He was just here I know he was! Sebastian! Please I saw him I know I did I saw him…”

 

\---------

 

_So much blood oh gods Sebby breathe the walls splatters skull stop the bleeding breathe Sebby breathe two shots to the chest breathe Sebby apply pressure breathe dammit breathe I’m so sorry breathe_

 

\---------

 

The floor beneath him was cold and hard, and something was digging into his side. Jim opened his eyes. He’d curled himself up in the corner of the bathroom, rocking slowly beside the sink. He stilled and took a deep breath. There was nothing he could do to stop his hands from shaking though. He rubbed them together to coax warmth and feeling back into them.

“You need to remember I’m dead.” Jim’s head snapped round to find Sebastian sitting on the edge of the bath, in his familiar grey shirt and jeans. He sighed, and ran his hands through his hair.

“I know, Bastian.” What a pitiful sight he must be, a nervous wreck on the bathroom floor. Moriarty! The man in the Westwood was a force to be reckoned with, a mask. Jim wasn’t. Not if the bags under his eyes and nervous tremor in his hands were anything to go by. Maybe he was beyond it. Maybe he’d finally cracked. His ex-second-in-command clapped his hands together and stood, waking Jim from his misery.

“Right! Let’s put that Westwood on then and see how smart Mr Holmes is. Come on, Kitten.” Sebastian’s voice softened. “Make yourself three pieces of toast with jam and I’ll run a shower. Good plan?” Jim nodded from the corner.

“Help me up Sebastian?”

“Of course Kitten.” Jim is tugged up so fast he can’t stop himself before he smacked onto the blonde’s broad chest. Sebastian laughs as Jim hugged him tightly.

“Never leave me?” He pleads, wrapping his fingers into the taller man’s t shirt. Sebastian answered with a sigh.

“Remember, Jim, I’m-”

“You promised. You promised me, remember?” Sebastian kissed his boss’s forehead.

“I won’t leave. But toast, shower, Holmes! It’s 10 o’clock already and I’ve still got to grab Watson.” The pair disentangled themselves and Jim headed for the kitchen. The place was a mess. In the lead up to his new game, Jim hadn’t paid much attention to the flat and where he put anything.

“Oh, and Bastion? He called over his shoulder, “I want your team in position with Watson settled in an hour before Holmes is scheduled to arrive, and this flat needs to be spotless before we leave.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was a short journey to the pool yet it was still too long for Jim. He wriggled and fidgeted in the back seat of the taxi, pleather upholstery creaking softly. Sebastian sat as patiently as he could next to Jim, watching his boss check his phone again. 11:30pm. Till plenty of time. He pocketed his phone and adjusted his tie for the dozenth time.

“For god’s sake Jim, sit the fuck still.” Sebastian finally snapped. Jim lowered his hands with deliberate care, eyes frosty. Sebastian sat silently.

“Since when did you give the orders, Moran?”

 

\--------- 

 

Moran? The black taxi drove carefully down the road, across town and towards the outskirts. It was borrowed from the usual driver, one of Moriarty’s thugs did taxi work on the side. The perfect car to hide in plain sight. In the driver’s seat, Maria Langley glanced in the rear-view mirror at the backseat. Her boss sat alone, hands empty in his lap and no sign of another man or a phone. She returned her focus back to the road in front of her. Moran. She’d heard that name before. You didn’t make it this far in Moriarty’s employ by being stupid. Besides, Sebastian Moran was something of a legend in the depths of the criminal underworld. He was the best sniper in the business and according to rumours he was on Moriarty’s personal leash. Maria had also heard he was dead.

 

The cab carried on through the yellow haze of the street lights. Keeping her grip light on the wheel she glanced in the mirror again. Her boss stared back. She ducked her head, nervous at being caught staring. Focus on the road, she thought. There was little danger of hitting anyone this far out of town this late but it was something reliable. Moran was dead and her boss was talking to a voice in his head.

 

\--------- 

 

“She knows.” Sebastian whispered to Jim. “She knows about us. Me. You.” Not turning to face his second in command, Jim thought. His empire would fall apart if people thought he had lost it. Keeping Sebastian’s death and his own… condition hidden was his highest priority. He could kill this woman or he could bring her in so close she had to stay quiet. He did need a new lieutenant and if she was driving, she was trustworthy enough.

“What’s your name?” To give her credit, the woman barely jumped.

“Maria Langley, sir.” Jim kept an eye on the rear-view mirror but Langley’s eyes stayed focused ahead.

“What are your skills?”

“I trained as a security guard. Good with a gun but I prefer a knife and hand to hand. Various drivers’ licences and I’ve got a number of reliable contacts in a range of fields. Been employed by you for the last six years.”

In the corner of Jim’s eye, Sebastian flickered. He kept his focus on Maria as he studied her as best he could in the occasional yellow light. She was petit, dark haired, slight Welsh twist to her words. Most importantly, nothing like his Basher. Barely moving his lips, Jim whispered to Sebastian.

“What do you think?” The blond man flickered again as he nodded his head. Jim could only just see the faint outline of where Moran’s body should be.

“I hired her. Background checks are clear. No previous convictions and good in a tight corner. Clever and loyal.” That settled it then.

“Langley, kill Daniels once we reach the pool. You’re in charge now. I want Watson in semtex and fully wired up as soon as possible if he isn’t already. Snipers need to be in position along the balcony and on standby. Check they know their cue, Daniels wasn’t as thorough as a lieutenant needs to be.” Maria nodded, aware she was being judged and of the threat.

“Of course sir. We’ll be there in under ten minutes.”

“Excellent. And Maria,” Moriarty passes, “You know what happened to my last lieutenant, don’t you.” Sebastian vanished. This time, Maria swallowed. Face neutral, she calmly replied.

“Yes sir.”

“Don’t make the same mistakes.”

 

Promotion accepted, Maria drove on. Moriarty adjusted the lapels of his jacket and relaxed in the backseat, alone. Time to meet Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Real life happened and I have been putting off typing up my paper drafts (as per ususal oops)


	3. Chapter 3

The pool was cold, damp, and smelt of too much chlorine. Exactly as remembered, Jim mused, right down to the strange gunk growing in between cracks in the concrete. He paced in the run down changing room, waiting for Langley to give the ready signal. In the corner of his eye there was a blink of colour.

“Back again, Moran? You’re getting to be very unreliable.” James spun on his heel and faced Sebastian. His sniper lazed on the low wooden bench that ran along the changing room walls. Sebastian shrugged carelessly, lit cigarette appearing in his hand.

“So?” Inhale.

“You’re getting sloppy.” Exhale.

“And yet I’m still the best you’ve got.” Moran inhaled again and laughed smoke, watching his boss carry on his pacing.

“So what’s the plan? Power play, scope out whether Holmes is a legitimate threat? You don’t need him to get you those plans.”

“Something like that.” James rubbed his hands together briskly, breath fogging in front of his face. “Sooner Sherlock shows up the better, as far as I’m concerned.” Westwood made a statement, but it certainly didn’t provide much against the chill.

“What’s Langley got organised, in case Holmes is armed or brings others? 

It’s okay, I’ve ordered Langley to set up a squad of snipers along the top west balcony. Plan B, we shoot both of them. Remove both variables from the equation and save problems in the long run. Langley knows the signals.”

“Jim, be careful. If there’s anything I can do…”

“Don’t distract me.” His voice cut through the chill and smoke of Moran’s cigarette. Silently, Moran stood and crushed the remains of the filter under the heel of one of his combat boots. Under the gaze of his boss, he adjusted his jacket before speaking.

“I swore I’d go as far as needed to keep you alive. That stills holds.”

 

As he walked through the door Langley walked through him like fog. Jim only just hid the resulting shudder.

“Sir,” she addressed him, “Holmes is five minutes out from the northern entrance. Watson is in position.” She held out a small black phone to him. He took it with a grin.

“Langley, it’s show time!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah I'm sorry this is so short. The confrontation is just fighting to not be written dammit :/


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jim, James, and Moriarty are all different people in his head, Moran is a pain in the ass, Holmes is an idiot and Watson is compared to a dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE! Where is that gif of the dragon from Mulan when you need it? I last updated this nearly exactly 11 months ago - 31/08/15 but I'm working to finish this before the next couple of months are up.
> 
> That being said, I actually sat down the other day and watched s1e3 and I'm pretty sure it's the first time I've watched Sherlock since season 3 came out. I've been avoiding this chapter and I'm worried I haven't done it justice. When I saw the original post on tumblr, this was the first bit I wrote (mid 2014ish) and it was very, very different in style and format and what you're reading now is the 8th version. So, SO glad that I decided to rewrite it!

 

James couldn't see Holmes, but the discreet bugs planted along the row of changing rooms would feed his words to him. Someone had finally found the heating because the pool was warming up. Langely must have noticed. The phone was set up to have both Langley and Watson on different calls at once, with James able to switch between as required. Langley would feed him Holmes' movements and he would give orders. He would have had Daniels killed much sooner if he knew she was in his employ.

 

James didn't hear the click of the pool doors, or Holmes' shoes on the wet concrete. He did hear his voice ring clearly throughout the empty pool.

"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present." James could picture him, eyeing the darkened gallery.

"Stand by." He murmured into the phone on Langley's line.

"Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance? All to distract me from _this_." Jim sighed quietly to himself. The blueprints. He really did think it was about the blueprints. Still, it did little to shake his excitement. First impressions, after all.

 

"Go." There was a flicker in the corner of his eye.

"Watson is go." If only he could see Holmes' face, read the unfiltered emotions dancing across it. Perhaps he should have set up a camera, filmed it. A live feed would be too distracting. Instead he picked up the phone and activated the second line, confident Watson would relay his words.

 

"Evening." James pauses. _Dramatic as always_ , a voice whispers in his ear. "This is a turn-up isn't it, Sherlock?" Moriarty squashed the voice. The dead had little use to him.

 

 

\---------

 

 

"Holmes is moving, sir. Walking towards Watson."

"Open your coat, Johnny-Boy."

 

All was running to plan. Open the coat, reveal the bomb, shake Holmes a little. Have Langley signal the lead sniper just in case Holmes decided to play hero. McCarthy, up in the gallery coupled a steady hand and cat-like reflexes with the patience of a glacier. Moriarty had requested his hand personally on the trigger for the reveal. He was second only to Moran. First now, he supposed.

"Gottle of geer, gottle of geer." James nearly giggles at the sound of Watson's voice breaking. Stop it, you say Sherlock? I'm only just getting started.

 

James stood and headed for the changing room door, dictating as he went.

"Nice touch this; the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson too - stop his heart." He paused to hang up and pocket the phone, before straightening his jacket and tie one last time. _Vain_ flittered through his mind.

 

"Who are you?" James slipped through the door. "I gave you my number. I thought you might call." First dates... Time to meet Sherlock Holmes. Moriarty stepped into the open, savouring the look on Holmes' face as he wandered down towards Holmes and his little pet.

 

Information gathered from his network had told him Sherlock was armed with Watson's service revolver. Good thing he'd accounted for that in his planning since Sherly had decided to play one-man SWAT team. The back drop of red-blue changing cubicles and “IN CASE OF EMERGENCY” sign made James giggle to himself until an unwanted smirk caught his notice.

 

It took all of Jim's will power not to take his eyes off his adversary to stare at Sebastian. Bold as brass he leant against the frame of one of the stalls, lit cigarette halfway to his mouth.

_How much do you trust your backup?_

Jim stopped next to his partner, still ignoring him.

"Jim Moriarty. Hi!" He grinned, "Jim? Jim from the hospital?"

_Don't poke the tiger, Jim._ I'll make you sleep on the couch.

 Moriarty continued his walk back towards the deep end of the pool. He turned back once he reached the end, to face Holmes and Watson's back. From up above in the gallery, McCarthy would have the tell-tale laser dot dancing on Watson's chest. Just to keep the dear Sherlock on his toes.

 

"Someone else is holding the rifle." James decided to address the confused look being passed between the pair of men. "I don't like getting my hands dirty." Moran grinned like a feral dog before clicking his teeth together twice in quick concession.

 

Click Click.

 

Safety off.

 

"I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse into what I have going on in the big bad world. I'm a specialist you see, just like you!”

 

At last, Holmes spoke.

"Dear Jim, please can you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?" James stalked forward, his grin a near match to Moran's.

"Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?" Holmes' hands didn't waver. Moriarty had to admire him for that. Very few could focus with Moran in the room. He came to a halt, hands in his pockets.

"Just so."

"Consulting criminal. Brilliant..." Moran's fingers twitched towards his side holster.

"Isn't it? No one ever gets to me,” a sobre look appearing on his face, “and no one ever will!"

_No one, Kitten?_

 

"I did." Sebastian coughed as Holmes cocked the pistol, smoke flying around Watson's head. Jim watched as he dropped the filter by his foot and wrapped his arms around his stomach. Head he tipped back, he laughed. Jim couldn't stop himself from smiling at Basher's contempt.

"You've come the closest," but you don't have me. "Now you're in my way."

 

 

\---------

 

 

"People have died." Moriarty's gaze flickered towards Moran.

 

He'd sagged a little against the woodwork but was still upright. Still smoking. Jim followed the progression of his hand, new cigarette lit. Up past his stomach, the two holes in his chest: one in the lower left lung, the other through his aorta. Seb’s hand reached his lips. Dragged a wheezy breath in before letting the smoke dribble out his nose. Finally the couple made eye contact. The shot had gone through Sebastian's lower left eye socket, shattering the bone before continuing on through his brain. It had burst out the back of his head and left a gaping hole. There was still bits of bone in his stained hair, and the wood behind him haloed his head in splatters.

 

"That's what people DO!" James wanted to signal Langley, have McCarthy tear a hole through Watson's stomach. Wanted to watch as Holmes tried to save his precious little pet. Jim breathed deeply through his nose, Basher could handle it. In the moment Sebastian and Jim missed Holmes' soft words.

"I will stop you."

_I'm going to die, Kitten_

"No you won't."

 

 

\---------

 

 

Watson kept his back to him, ignoring Moriarty in favour of focusing on Holmes. The man in question pulled the memory stick out of his pocket before offering it to Moriarty.

"Take it."

"Huh? Oh, that," James plucked it from Holmes' outstretched hand, "the missile plans. All of James' earlier disappointment came rushing back. He'd set up the best game he'd thought up to date, and Holmes had made it to the end still thinking it was about the dam blueprints. It made you want to scream.

_Told you so._

Time to get this over with and head home. Jim flicked the USB over his shoulder and into the pool. He'd find a new friend.

"Boring!" He sang. "I could have gotten them anywhere." he debated telling Holmes that he'd gotten them already, the originals sitting safely in his desk draw. No, no need to show all his cards.

_Jim!_

Watson slammed forward against his back and held him tight against the bomb vest. Jim couldn’t bring himself to care. He laughed.

"Good! Very good!" James could see his reaction is begin to worry Holmes, anxiety creeping openly across his face. Still a clever boy then.

"Isn't he sweet! I can see why people get so attached to their pets. But I'm afraid you've shown your hand there, Doctor Watson.

 

 

\---------

 

 

As soon as Langley heard 'Doctor Watson', she relayed the go signal to the sniper in the gallery. She couldn't see the show playing out beside the pool but she could hear her boss's laughter. This was the good kind, she figured. Well, as good as possible. He hadn't tried to talk to Moran yet.

"Westwood!" The situation must have been defused slightly, if Moriarty was fussing over his suit. Vain motherfucker. Maria couldn't fault him though, it was a very nice suit.

"Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? Do you?"

"Oh, let me guess, I get killed." She fidgeted a little on her seat and took a breath. She knows her orders, she's worked under more volatile conditions before; just not Moriarty's special brand of volatile.

 

 

\---------

 

 

“Kill you?” Really? Jim grimaced and gave in to the urge to roll his eyes. This was going from bad to worse. “No, no, don’t be obvious. I mean, I’m going to kill you anyway some day. I don’t want to _rush_ it.” I’m going to save it for a special occasion, James decided, standing and staring back at Holmes. He glanced over, searching for his second in command –

 

James wondered as he stared at Holmes’ left eye socket, if he had accidentally given Langley the signal to have Holmes killed. Couldn’t be, the trajectory didn’t match McCarthy’s position and the rest of the gallery were in case of emergency. Had Holmes killed himself, held the revolver behind his right temple, splattered his left eye across his collar torn his eyelid and eyebrow off to one side? Why would he do that, what did he see to miss the sniper in the building across from him? The office- no, the pool was silent, the only sounds James could hear were his own breath and the hum of the heaters. Holmes was silent, staring at the empty space behind him and he couldn’t, there was, why was that splatter so _familiar?_

Behind Jim, someone scuffed their shoe. Watson.

“No, if you don’t stop prying, I’ll burn you.” Moriarty gave Holmes’s sound body a quick once-over. Pets make you _weak._ Sherlock needed to learn.

“I’ll burn the heart out of you.” Moriarty snarled and Jim flinched, waiting for a lazy, smart-arse comment about kittens and roaring. He should have learned sooner.

 

“I have been reliably informed I don’t have one.” Holmes is quick to respond, his quiet words not escaping James or Moran’s ears. _Naïve fool. Might have just tipped him off about John though_. Moriarty shrugged the smoky whisper off. He was done here. Holmes wasn’t really worth it, despite making it as far as he had.

 

 

Scratch that, Sherlock Holmes was a fucking idiot. Not sighing and rolling his eyes was harder than setting up the games he had for Sherlock, honestly. He stared back at Holmes as he aimed the revolver at him and ran the through the list of codes he could subtly slip to Langley should Moran fail him.

 

“What if I was to shoot you now, right now?”

 

“Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face.” Moriarty grinned demurely at Holmes; “cause I’d be surprised Sherlock, really I would be.” Because you know I have at least one sniper up there, you could pull the trigger but then you’d have to watch Watson die. It won’t be fast either, just, _just_ slow enough that you’d have to sit there and watch him without… resolving anything between the pair of you. Moran was right, this was a first date. Just not between himself and Holmes. Jim clenched his hands in his pockets, digging his nails into his palms. Focus, focus. The detective didn’t seem to notice the movement and Jim considered himself successful.

 

“And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.”

 

James turned to walk out through the door he’d sent Watson in through, throwing one last look of distaste over his shoulder at Holmes. He headed down the whitewashed corridor and through to the second, near-identical changing room that had been kitted out into a base of operations. Trusting that he was safe even if Holmes ignored Watson to follow the long-gone Moriarty, James strode into the room and sat on the towels that had been laid out. It might have taken 30 million quid to tease Holmes out to play but good security and loyalty could be bought for less.

 

Langley was sitting on a bench, paying more attention to Moriarty walking into the room than the slime soaking into her dress pants. That was going to be a pain to wash out if she made it home. Jim wanted to go home, home to his Tiger. Langley hadn’t begun packing up the comms system yet, all snipers still in contact and awaiting orders. Moriarty ignored her in favour of stretching with a sigh. He wanted to get out of his suit and into his (Sebby’s) worn grey sweatpants and to crash on the sofa. He’d make Sebastian order pizza and they’d put aside this disappointment. Silence.

 

“Are you alright, sir?”

 

Later maybe, they could go over the plan from here. Should he have Holmes killed or should he keep him around for a rainy day? ‘Bastian would know, his tiger was so good to bounce ideas off.

 

“Holmes is agitated sir. He’s removed the vest from Watson and slid it towards the northern end of the pool.”

 

Jim hung his head, Sebastian would take care of it. Why was Langley asking Moriarty something of this level? Why wasn’t there any answer?

 

Because Sebastian was dead and his new second-in-command was staring at him as they listened for Holmes to take his pet Watson home, home to each other-

 

“Langley. I want snipers on both of them, right now.”

 

Jim doesn’t wait for confirmation, he’s already making his way through the administration labyrinth to the first changing room out into the pool again.

 

“Sorry boys, I’m so changeable!” He sang and watched Holmes eye the gallery, trying to judge how many people were actually up there. Langley had read him well, half a dozen red dots danced on the detective and his weakness. Any other weakness Moriarty had had was gone, leaving him free to continue however he dam well pleased.

 

“It is a weakness with me, but to be fair it is my only weakness.”

 

Moriarty stood at the end of the pool, the bomb vest discarded halfway between Jim and Sherlock. He was speaking. It was like he was underwater, maybe underneath the surface of the pool itself. God, Sebastian, chlorine was going to _ruin_ his jacket lining.

 

James didn’t miss the nod the pet gave Holmes. That was permission, Watson at Holmes’ mercy and that, _that_ was _his._ That was what had been taken from him and if he couldn’t have it then why should Holmes? Why should Holmes have a pet like Watson when the world saw fit to strip Jim of his? Holmes barely looked after his pet. Holmes had had to see his pet’s mortality to see his heart. Holmes had to _burn._

 

And with the Browning pointed not at him but the jacket between them, maybe Moriarty would too.

 

_Not an option._

The end was always an option.

_I’m supposed to protect you!_

You couldn’t protect yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe cliff hanger!!!
> 
> I kind of feel like I need to explain why this fic has practically been abandoned cause I've left you all hanging for so long.
> 
> I've been dealing with severe depression and anxiety since the start of high school, and it hasn't been treated up until the end of last year. 2015 I withdrew from university half way through my first year, moved back to live with my parents, and finally found a psych that I worked well with. Any how, I've had absolute zilch motivation for chapters, or to even type up an idea if I had it. This year is kind-of-moving-out-of-home attempt #2 and I'm getting good treatment. Over all, I'm feeling better, so fingers crossed that I'll have the ideas/motivation/ability to work on this more. No promises, a maybe.
> 
> You are all so wonderful and patient, thank you xx


End file.
